Please, Kiss Me, Sir!

David, my fiancé and the man I loved, threw me out like trash seven days before the wedding. He chose his pregnant mistress, who was none other than her ex. "She's carrying my child, Rose. I have to take responsibility." Rejected and betrayed right in front of the triumphant, smiling homewrecker, I fled to a nightclub to drown my sorrows. However, I accidentally crashed into a man with a dangerously dominant aura. A mysterious figure with an intoxicating scent awakened a primal longing within me. One accidental kiss didn't just ignite sparks in my body. It awoke something that had never stirred before, not even with David. But that mysterious scent succeeded, making me want to submit to the heat and strength of his powerful body. "Alpha... can you kiss me again?"

Chapters

Chapter 1

My wedding is next week, but my fiancé brought his ex-girlfriend, who also happens to be his first love.

I thought this must be a dream.

I never imagined I would see the two of them standing side by side again.

"She's pregnant with my child. I want to call off the wedding and our engagement, Rose."

With a face I had never seen before—one I didn't recognise at all—he coldly declared it was over.

"I'm going to marry Sarah soon, before her belly starts to show." Again, without a shred of emotion, he said this to me as I stood waiting.

My heart felt like it stopped beating. The air around me suddenly turned cold, freezing every cell in my body.

"Wh-what?" That was all I could manage. My voice sounded hoarse, foreign even to my ears.

Sarah, his ex, the woman who had always been a shadow in our relationship, looked down slightly, placing a hand on her still-flat stomach. Whether she felt ashamed or guilty, I couldn't tell.

"You heard what I said, Rose. "I'm sorry," said my fiancé, David. His voice was flat, like he was reading a grocery list. "I hope you can understand. Sarah needs me, and my child needs its father."

"Understand?"

I repeated the word bitterly, as if poison were slowly spreading on my tongue. "I'm supposed to understand that my fiancé is calling off our wedding because he got another woman pregnant?"

My eyes burned, but the tears refused to fall.

I stared at David's face, the one I had loved so deeply. The man who had once been my home was now causing me unimaginable pain.

"Rose…" He tried to touch my hand, but I recoiled. His touch now felt repulsive.

"Don't touch me," I whispered.

My voice was almost inaudible, but it was enough to make him straighten up.

"Rose, please—"

"Enough!" I glared at him sharply, holding back every tremor in my chest to keep from breaking into sobs. "You don't even have the right to ask me to understand, David. I gave you everything, David. You destroyed all my love, my time, and my dreams as if they were insignificant. I raised my trembling voice, unleashing a wave of anger I could no longer contain.

David lowered his head, perhaps out of guilt, or maybe not. Meanwhile, Sarah just stood quietly besides him, as if she knew she had already won.

"Three years is not a short time, David. I kept thinking about a beautiful future for us. But—" I couldn't finish my sentence. I wiped my face roughly with my hand as the tears finally streamed down my cheeks.

Suddenly, Sarah spoke. Her voice was soft, yet piercing.

"Rose, I am truly sorry about all of this. It shouldn't have happened. But it has. I'm begging you, let David go."

I shifted my gaze from David to Sarah. A mix of pity and burning anger swelled in my chest.

She was apologising, yet her calm gaze showed she had gotten what she wanted. There wasn't a trace of regret or guilt in her eyes.

"Let him go?" I laughed, a hollow laugh that sounded more like a sob. "Don't you think that's ironic, Sarah? You've already taken him, and now you're asking me to let him go. Was that your plan all along?"

David raised his head. "Rose, stop. Sarah has nothing to do with—"

"Nothing to do with it?!" I cut him off sharply. "She's pregnant with your child, David! Right before we get married! That is the heart of all this! Don't you dare try to protect her after what the two of you have done to me!"

David's breathing grew heavy. He looked a little more emotional now.

"I know your situation is bad, Rose. Even worse than that. But I can't abandon my child. I have to take responsibility; no matter what, he is my pure bloodline," he said, his voice now slightly pleading, as if trying to make me see the goodness in his actions.

"Responsibility?" I took another step back, pointing at Sarah, who was still standing quietly. "You already had a responsibility to me, David! The responsibility was marrying me next week! It was a responsibility that had cost me three years of my life!

I reached into the pocket of my dress and pulled out a small velvet box. The engagement ring, which was meant to symbolise our commitment, was in the box.

I threw it. I threw it not towards him but onto the floor, between their shoes.

The small object spun and came to a stop. The sudden silence felt deafening.

"Take this," I said, my voice flat and cold again, all my emotions drained, leaving behind a frozen emptiness. "Cancel everything. I never want to see you again, David!"

David stared at the box, then back at me. A hint of surprise flashed in his eyes, as if he thought I would beg or scream longer.

"Rose, I—"

"Leave! "I cut him off. "Take her and your child, who needs a father, out of my house, out of my life. Right now!"

Sarah touched David's arm. "David, maybe we should go," she whispered softly.

David gave a stiff nod. He took a deep breath, his gaze avoiding mine. He bent down quickly, picked up the ring box, and, without another word, he turned around.

They walked towards the door, Sarah a step behind him. Just before Sarah stepped out, she glanced back slightly, and what infuriated me the most was the small, almost smirk-like smile she gave me.

***

I decided to go to the Crimson. I usually avoided The Crimson, a nightclub downtown, due to its excessive crowds and noise. But tonight, the crowd and the noise were exactly what I wanted. I needed the blaring music to drown out the noise in my head.

Half an hour later, I was there. The smell of alcohol and sweat and the pounding house music immediately greeted me.

I sat at the bartender's table and ordered straight vodka. One glass. I continued to order two glasses until I could no longer recall the number of times I requested a refill. The burn in my throat helped, at least a little, to numb the stabbing pain in my chest.

I looked around at the bustling crowd until I decided to head down to the dance floor. Honestly, I was just moving to the rhythm, closing my eyes, and letting my body be taken over by the beat. I didn't care who witnessed my awkward dancing. I just wanted to get rid of all thoughts of David, the wedding, and the betrayal. I desperately wanted to forget, even if just for an hour.

After dancing for a while, my legs suddenly felt weak, and my head spun. I decided to go to the restroom to splash water on my face. Half-drunk, I staggered through the sea of people.

Suddenly, my body crashed hard into something—or someone.

"Ouch!" I gasped. My balance completely vanished. I stumbled backwards, resigned to hitting the cold floor.

However, before I could meet the floor, a pair of strong, muscular arms quickly wrapped around my waist. With a firm tug, he pulled me upright. His powerful grip propelled my body forward, pressing it against his broad chest.

At the same moment, someone from the dancing crowd bumped into my back quite hard from behind. The push sent my head lurching forwards.

Smack.

Time seemed to stop. In that tumultuous instant, my lips made contact with his. It was just a brief touch, an accident caused by a stranger's push, yet it felt like a jolt of static electricity shooting through every nerve in my body.

***

Continue to next part

I woke up with a smile on my face, the morning light filtering through our bedroom curtains. Today marked three years since I had become Mrs. Christina Hughes, and my heart fluttered with the same excitement I'd felt on our wedding day. Dante was still asleep beside me, his dark hair tousled against the pillow, his breathing deep and rhythmic. Quietly, I slipped out of bed and padded to the kitchen. I wanted everything to be perfect for our anniversary. I prepared his favorite breakfast—blueberry pancakes with maple syrup and freshly brewed coffee. The dress he'd bought me for our first anniversary—a simple blue sundress that he said matched my eyes—hung in the bathroom where I'd placed it last night. As I whisked the pancake batter, my mind wandered to the small white stick hidden in my purse. I'd taken the test yesterday, hands trembling as two pink lines appeared.

Modern Romance

8.9

Contract Bride: Rising From The Shadows

8.9

I was hired to be the "cure" for the Stuart family’s reputation, a wife whose only job was to manage the emotional risks of Casper Stuart’s cold-blooded empire. My life was governed by spreadsheets and compliance reports, and my value was measured solely by my ability to remain a silent, perfect asset. On our second anniversary, Casper didn't come home for dinner; instead, a Page Six alert showed him with a Victoria's Secret model at Soho House, his hand possessively on her back. When he finally returned, he didn't offer an apology, but a clinical reminder of my "obligations." I soon discovered he had given my three-million-dollar anniversary bonus—a pink diamond necklace—to his mistress, while tossing me a cheap bracelet his assistant had picked out. When his mother offered me a two-hundred-million-dollar settlement to disappear, Casper tore the contract to shreds in front of me. He whispered that he had bought up every cent of my family’s medical and gambling debts, turning my marriage into a life sentence of indentured servitude. To prove his power, he kicked me out of his car in a rainstorm twenty miles from the city, leaving me to walk home barefoot while he drove off with my dog. "Tell her you want to stay," he had commanded in front of his mother, using my mother’s life as leverage to keep his "portfolio" intact. I stood in the mud, shivering as the rain washed away the mask of the supportive wife, realizing that to the Stuarts, I wasn't a human being—I was a line item that could be liquidated or crushed at will. But Casper forgot one thing: I am an actress, and I’ve finally landed the role of a lifetime. I’m done managing his risks; I’m about to become his greatest liability.

Modern Mystery Romance

9.7

Just like the evening breeze leaves no trace

9.7

Chapter 1 It was their seventh wedding anniversary. Carolyn found the divorce agreement in Roger’s nightstand. The pages were covered in scribbles and corrections, as if he’d agonized over them for years. *"If, during the marriage, I fall in love with another person, I voluntarily relinquish all assets and leave with nothing. Asset details as follows…"* His first impulse had been to walk away empty-handed. But the asset section told a different story—a mess of revisions. First, he’d crossed out the property he intended to give her. Then, the fifty million earmarked for her was scratched out and replaced with five hundred thousand. Finally, as if in penance, he had written a single line. *"Better to have Carolyn leave with nothing. No choice, Catherine is pregnant."* … Carolyn sank onto the bed, disbelief washing over her. On the agreement, Roger’s signature was clean and decisive, without a hint of hesitation. And the document had been drafted seven years ago—the very year they married. That year, Roger had been willing to give up everything for her. Yet every year after, he had crossed out another piece of their shared life. Now, seven years later, the one leaving with nothing would be her. Her phone buzzed abruptly. A message from Roger. *"Urgent business. Won't be back."* She called, only to find his phone already switched off. Another notification flashed—a screenshot from a friend. Catherine, the student she sponsored, had posted on social media. *"Wow, got praised! To commemorate my first period without a leak, the big boss said we should celebrate properly!"* In a nine-photo collage, Roger gazed at her, eyes crinkling with affection as he fastened a dazzling gemstone necklace around her neck. The post was tagged at a couples-themed hotel. Carolyn’s breath caught. He couldn’t remember seven years of marriage, of weathering storms together—but he could find the energy to celebrate Catherine’s… leak-free period. And that pendant… she’d seen it at an auction just last week. It was her mother’s lost heirloom. She’d been ready to bid when her bank card was frozen. She’d asked Roger why. A long time later, he finally texted back, telling her not to waste money on such impractical things. Clutching her bidding paddle, she’d sat helplessly in the auction hall. In the end, she resolved to sell one of her own designs to raise the funds. But someone on the phone swooped in with an unbeatable offer and took it. For weeks afterward, Carolyn hated herself—hated that she couldn’t protect her mother’s last keepsake. She never imagined the one who snatched it away was Roger. He knew exactly how much that pendant meant to her. Yet he gave it to Catherine. Even on their seventh anniversary, Roger had lied about being busy with work, while wining and dining the girl she’d sponsored. The anniversary gift he left her was a divorce agreement demanding she leave with nothing. Seven years of marriage. Seven years of infidelity. And Carolyn had known nothing. She’d even introduced the other woman to him herself. Catherine was the impoverished student Carolyn sponsored. The first time Catherine came to their home to give thanks, Roger found her intrusive and disliked her on sight. *"That girl has no manners. Tracked mud all over my cashmere rug."* *"If her grades aren’t up to par, cut the sponsorship."* Back then, Carolyn had teased him, saying not to be jealous—it was good the girl had a grateful heart. She never once suspected Roger and Catherine. For seven years, everyone in their circle believed Roger never played around. That he loved only Carolyn. But by their next meeting, Catherine had become Roger’s personal assistant. Roger explained, *"The girl’s had it tough. You’ve sponsored her for years. Giving her a job is just helping you out."* Carolyn had laughed it off. Now, hands trembling, she opened Catherine’s social media feed. Catherine had always hidden her posts from Carolyn. Now, she seemed desperate to flaunt everything. While Carolyn drank until her stomach bled to secure a deal for Roger, Catherine was using Roger’s card to buy her first Louis Vuitton. While Carolyn changed bedpans for Roger’s bedridden grandmother, Roger was taking Catherine to a perfume atelier for a blending class—calling it a business trip. Catherine had even complained online. *"Your wife is such a pampered princess. Can't handle the tiniest thing without you running back. Can she not live without a man?"* And Roger had replied beneath it. *"If she were half as independent as you, I’d have an easier life."* But that day… Carolyn’s mother had lost her battle with cancer. She’d cried until her heart felt shredded, scrambling to handle the arrangements. All the while, Roger kept checking his phone impatiently, eager to leave. Not for work, she realized now—but because he was desperate to get back to Catherine.

Billionaire Modern Romance

7.8

Justice for the Humiliated

7.8

The crystal chandelier cast dancing shadows across Margaret Griffin's opulent dining room as fifty of the city's elite mingled beneath its light. I stood near the mahogany sideboard, watching Harrison hold court by the fireplace, his voice carrying that familiar tone of superiority that had grated against my nerves for ten years. "Cassandra chose this necktie for me tonight," Harrison announced, his fingers plucking at the silk fabric around his throat with theatrical disgust. "Can you believe it? Navy blue with silver stripes to my mother's birthday party." The laughter that rippled through the crowd felt like ice water in my veins. Margaret Griffin, resplendent in her emerald gown and diamond tiara, shook her head with practiced disappointment. "Oh, Harrison," she sighed, loud enough for everyone to hear. "You really must start dressing yourself. Poor dear Cassandra simply doesn't understand these things." My fingers tightened around my champagne flute. The necktie was Hermès, worth more than most people's monthly salary, and it complemented his charcoal suit perfectly.

Billionaire Modern Romance

8.5

Mistress's Costly Affair

8.5

The familiar scent of turpentine and oil paint should have comforted me as I pushed open the door to Adrian's studio. Instead, my stomach twisted into knots as the scene before me registered in my mind. I'd spent the morning preparing his favorite lunch—smoked salmon sandwiches with the crusts removed, just as he liked them—and tucked a pregnancy test into my pocket. After three years of trying, the faint second line had appeared this morning. I wanted to surprise him, to see his face light up with the news we'd waited so long to receive. But the woman draped across Adrian's chaise lounge wasn't me. "Adrian?" My voice sounded small, even to my own ears. He didn't startle. Didn't even pause the sweep of his brush across the canvas. The afternoon light streamed through the skylights, illuminating the scene with a clarity I wished I could escape.

Modern Mystery Romance

8.7

Rejected Luna's Ultimate Vengeance

8.7

The weekend arrived, and with it, the annual pack gathering—a grand event where the Blue Moon Pack showcased its strength and unity. As the Luna of the pack, I was expected to attend, though the tension between Julian, our Alpha, and me had been simmering for weeks. The gathering was held in the grand hall of our pack’s territory, a modern, sprawling building that blended seamlessly with the city around us. The air buzzed with the energy of werewolves mingling, their auras clashing and mingling in a dance of dominance and submission. Julian stood at the center of it all, his broad shoulders and imposing frame commanding attention. His dark eyes scanned the room, lingering on Aleyna Price, his Beta, who stood at his side like a shadow. Aleyna was young, ambitious, and utterly convinced of her own importance. She smirked when she caught my eye, her gaze filled with a challenge I had no intention of backing down from. The auction was the highlight of the evening, a tradition meant to raise funds for the pack’s warriors and healers. The painting up for bidding was a stunning piece, a depiction of a lone wolf howling at the moon, its symbolism impossible to ignore.

Modern Romance Werewolf

Please, Kiss Me, Sir!

Chapter 1

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